


inbound

by mcwho



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But what’s new, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Snark, Steve And Bucky Talk Shit To Each Other Over The Phone And Get Off On It Somehow, Steve Is Annoying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: Halfway into Steve’s super-secret two-week long mission in Buttfuck, Iowa, Bucky’s sexual frustration levels reach a peak.He calls him that night, flopping back onto their bed, which suddenly seems far too big now without a second giant supersoldier sprawled across it, taking up half the room.





	inbound

Halfway into Steve’s super-secret two-week long mission in Buttfuck, Iowa, Bucky’s sexual frustration levels reach a peak. 

He calls him that night, flopping back onto their bed, which suddenly seems far too big now without a second giant supersoldier sprawled across it, taking up half the room. 

Bucky dances around the topic for the better part of their conversation. He’s not exactly sure how to ask Steve to talk him into an orgasm that would actually satisfy him, or at least hold him over for the seven days until he finally gets back. Steve chats away, reassuring Bucky that yes,he’s being careful and he even has a parachute _and_ a backup chute, so no, there is no untethered sky diving going on, don’t worry about me, Buck, and you’ll never believe this hilarious thing Sam did today. 

Eventually, there’s a lull in conversation. Bucky takes a breath, gives up on subtlety and blurts out, “Do you miss it? You know. It.”

Steve laughs a little, shocked. “Do I miss it-“ He cuts himself off, laughing to himself a little more. 

“Fuck you,” Bucky huffs. His cheeks flush. “I’m going.“

“Buck,” Steve says, still amused. “Come on, an obvious question like that? You’re really asking me If I miss you?”

Bucky decides not to hang up - for now. “I know you miss _me_ ,” Bucky admits. “I’m asking if you miss- if you miss fucking me.”

When Steve speaks up again, his voice is just that little bit thicker. “Has it been hard on you, honey? Me being away?” 

Bucky looks down, examining his fingernails. Heat rises beneath his skin, the blush of his his mild embarrassment giving way to something warmer, thrumming in his veins. “Hasn’t been no picnic, that’s for sure. And anyway, we weren’t _talking_ about me here, stay on topic.“

“Fuck, listen to you. You really need it, huh?” 

“Oh, no,” Bucky says, not quite ready to give in just yet. “Oh no, Rogers, you’re not turning this around on me.”

“Turning what around on you?” Steve asks, tone deliberately mild. 

“You think I don’t know you? Quit trying to take the reigns. _I’m_ asking the questions here.”

Steve chuckles, quiet, then groans softly like he’s stretching out, getting comfortable. “Okay. Alright, Bucky. You ask away, sweetheart.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Bucky grumbles. 

“Like what?” Steve asks, sounding like the paragon of innocence.

“Like you’re _indulging_ me or something. You’re so annoying. You still haven’t even answered my question.”

“And what was that?” Steve asks, fucking with Bucky just for the sake of it now. 

“You know damn well what it was. I’m the one with the brain damage in this duo, pal,” Bucky says.

Steve laughs again. “Of course I miss it, Buck. It’s been a week. You know I can barely last a couple of hours without being all over you.”

“I _do_ spoil you,” Bucky concedes. Then he asks, a little tentatively, “So what are you wearing?” 

“Mm, you want me to play it up for you? Paint a picture? Tell you about how I’m just out of the shower and naked-“

“I _want_ you to tell me what you’re wearing,” Bucky grits out. 

“Always been such a sweet-talker. Sweatpants,” Steve says. “You know, the grey ones.”

Bucky stares up at the ceiling. 

“No shirt?”

“No shirt,” Steve confirms. 

“Underwear?” he asks. 

“You know how I feel about underwear in my own house,” Steve says. 

“Not your house. You’re in a motel room,” Bucky says. 

“ _My_ motel room,” Steve corrects. “I can have freedom in my own space that I pay for.”

“You’re on a mission,” Bucky says. “‘Least you can do is wear underwear.”

“I’m having downtime. If I get attacked with no underwear on, I get attacked with no underwear on,” Steve says, breezy. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, and then blinks up at the ceiling for a second more. He pictures it, easily. It’s nothing he’s never seen before. Steve slouched on the sofa, manspreading like an asshole, the soft fabric of his sweatpants clinging to his thighs and making it obscenely clear that he wasn’t wearing a thing underneath. It made Bucky want to get his tongue on him through them, suck and lick until the fabric’s wet and tented. Then Steve would pull them down, just low enough that he can get his cock out. Fuck Bucky’s mouth, hand tight in his hair, move him however he wanted. 

Bucky exhales slowly. He needs to pace himself. 

“Freedoms like that are why we do this,” he agrees weakly. 

“That’s right, Buck,” Steve agrees, sounding smug. Like he knows exactly what Bucky’s thinking.

“Stop that,” Bucky says in a grumble. “Get that look off your face.” 

“You don’t know what look I have on my face,” Steve says, challenging. 

“You’ve got that stupid smirk on and you’ve got one eyebrow raised.” Bucky pauses, then takes a gamble: “The left one.”

“It was the right, actually,” Steve says. 

“Asshole.”

“Speaking of assholes,” Steve prompts. 

“If you would just let me get a word in, we could get around to that,” Bucky hisses. “Jesus, Rogers, stick a sock in it for once.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” Steve says. 

Bucky lets the bait sit there for a moment, before saying, “Is that right?”

“You sound wound up.”

“No,“ Bucky deadpans. 

“And it’s not because I’m getting snarky with you. I talk shit all the time, baby, you and I both know this is nothing new. Nothing that’s gotten you this bothered before.” 

Bucky shrugs, though he can’t be seen. “Maybe these past few days have given me some time to reflect on how much you get on my nerves.” 

“Or maybe,” Steve says, “It’s making you cranky, you’re so needy for it.”

Steve knows him far too well. It’s annoying when it’s not outrageously arousing. Bucky fidgets a little, before saying, “I miss you,” a little quieter. 

“I know, baby,” Steve says, voice softer. “I miss you too.”

“It’s. Not enough,” Bucky manages. “Just getting myself off. I’ve had months of getting fucked ‘til I don’t even know who I am, Steve, I can’t go back to my hand and lotion. It’s cruelty, is what it is.”

“Against the Geneva Conventions, is what it is,” Steve agrees, because he’s a good boyfriend and all-round supportive kind of guy. “You been bringing yourself off a lot?” Steve asks. 

Bucky laughs, short and humourless. ‘A lot’ is an understatement. “Feel like I’m in school again. If I wasn’t enhanced, I’d chafe, I swear. I’m– wearing your blue sweatshirt. The one you left on the coat rack. It still sort of smells like you.”

He hears Steve’s quiet, sharp inhale. “Are you hard?” he asks, completely unnecessarily, if you ask Bucky. Bucky looks below his waist, to where he’s been ignoring up ‘til now, purely on principle coupled with refusal to give Steve the fucking satisfaction. He’s rock hard, the flushed tip of his cock peeking out of the waistband of his boxers.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Steve groans. “Get your hand on your cock. Pull it out of those – you got those little boyshorts you like to wear on?”

“They’re _boxers_ ,” Bucky corrects him for the thousandth time. 

“They’re briefs,” Steve shoots back. 

“They’re boxer briefs,” Bucky says. 

“Yeah, yeah, we sound like a damn infomercial. Touch yourself for me, honey.” 

Grumbling a little, Bucky pushes his underwear down, wrapping a hand around himself. He moans quietly at the contact, squeezing and starting to tug. “Steve,” he breathes. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Steve breathes. “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.”

“ _Feels_ like I want you to do it,” Bucky says, a little whiny. “With your fuckin’- oar hands. You were practically built for this shit.”

“Erskine would be glad to hear it,” Steve says. 

“You’re damn straight,” Bucky breathes, stroking faster. 

“Fuck. _Fuck_ , I can hear how wet you are. What else, hm? What else do you want me to do to you?” Steve asks. Bucky can hear rustling on his end. 

“You gonna jack off?” Bucky asks, a little breathless. 

“You got any goddamn idea what you sound like? Of course I’m gonna jack off. Now come on, sugar, spare no detail.”

“You gonna pull your weight here at all? Or am I monologuing?” Bucky snarks. When he doesn’t get any answer save for a soft sigh as Steve gets a hand around himself, he swallows and says, “I wanna suck you off. Get down in front of you while you’re watching some game or something. In those sweatpants. The ones that don’t even fit right, a size too small, just like the rest of your fuckin’ clothes, I swear to God,” Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes. 

Steve snorts. “You were doing good there for a moment. Almost got through a full five seconds without running your mouth.”

“You love when I run my mouth,” Bucky bites back. 

Steve laughs a little, but it’s darker, breathier. Bucky has something of a Pavlovian response to that laugh. “Only one way to shut you up, isn’t that right, Buck?” Steve asks, wicked grin in his voice. “And God, you’re practically begging for it when you get like this. You got any idea what it does to me? Makes me want to fuck that pretty face, until you go all sweet for me, eyes glazed over. You want that? Want me to pull your hair, shove my cock down your throat, put you in your place?”

Bucky lets out a shuddering breath. _God why didn’t he do this earlier_. “Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah. And when you– after, when you get me on the bed, face-down, and your hand’s –fuck– hand’s on the back of my neck, and you fill me up.”

Steve gives a low, rumbling sound. “You like that?”

“ _God_ you fill me up so good,” Bucky pants. 

“The _sounds_ you make,” Steve breathes. “The way you sound when you’re under me, like it’s too good, like you’re gonna die from it.”

Bucky’s grip tightens on himself like Steve’s would, fist rotating at the head of his cock, thumbing the sensitive underside. 

“It’s– I can’t help it, it’s so... feels like I’m burning up. And if I try,” Bucky gives a small, breathy laugh. “If I try muffling it, shove my face in a pillow, a fist in my mouth, you fuckin’ _lose_ it. Slam into me until I’m screaming and my throat is raw and I can’t-“ Bucky pants, fist slipping over his cock, fast, tight. 

“Buck,” Steve groans. 

“Yeah,” Bucky moans, back arching a little, fucking into his fist. “And you– you hold me there, fuck me ‘til I’m stupid, Steve and it’s good, it’s so fucking good. Want you to– Love when you just take– _take_ –“

“Take what’s mine, huh, baby?” Steve says, voice rough.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky hisses. “Steve,” he moans, voice thick with need. 

“That’s it, honey, say my name,” Steve breathes. “I know that’s what you need. Need to be fucked ‘til you’re shaking from it, crying from it.” Bucky chokes out a whimper, and Steve keeps going, “You look gorgeous when you’re like that, flushed, wet face. Makes me wanna ruin you all over again, bruise you up more so they’ll stay longer.“

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, thinking of it. Steve’s hands all over him, harsh but capable, manhandling him into position and then kissing him sweet, gentle, tongue sliding along his. It’s an obscene contrast to the thrust of his hips, the punishing shove of his cock up inside him, fucking into Bucky’s spot, making him wail. He’d squeeze his ass, slap the already reddened flesh then lean over Bucky, wrap his fingers around his throat, ask him who he belonged to–

“You’re so – so _mean_ ,” Bucky grunts, fist flying over his cock. “An _asshole_ , I swear to God.”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” Steve says, voice rough. “Like it when it hurts. When I fuck you ‘til you’re sore, ‘til you’re all wet and open for it.”

“Love it,” Bucky pants. “Fucking _love it_ – God, Steve, I miss it so much, miss you so much, you fuck me so good.”

“Bucky,” Steve groans. “You gonna come?” Bucky gives a wordless moan, stomach tightening, writhing desperately. “One more week. One more week, and I’m gonna bend you over, pull down those boyshorts you like to parade around in, fuck you raw. And you’re gonna be _begging_ for it, God, you know how pretty you sound when you beg? Like music to my ears, sweetheart, music to my fucking ears.”

“I’m gonna come,” Bucky whimpers. “I’m–“

“Ask me for it,” Steve says, voice thick, breathy. 

“Please,” Bucky sobs. “Please let me, I need it, I’m– _ah_.”

“Fuck,” Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s it baby, _God_ , that’s it.”

Bucky chokes out a broken whine, arching and coming, and Steve, the sounds he’s making– Bucky’s head spins with it, with how much he wants him, wants it filling him up and dripping out of him, wants–

They’re both panting, taking short little breaths. Bucky takes his hand off himself, eyeing the all-too familiar pool of come on his stomach. They’re silent for a minute, wishing, wanting. 

Then, Steve says, “Better now?” sounding lazy and tired. 

“Better,” Bucky sighs. “Jesus, the _mouth_ on you, Rogers.”

“What?” Steve says, sounding like he’s grinning. “That’s what you called for, isn’t it? To tell me all about how bad you want me to put you through our mattress. To hear how much I want that too.”

Bucky flushes, absently reaching for the box of tissues on their nightstand to clean himself off. “Yeah yeah,” he says lamely, eyelids already drooping, more sated than he’s felt in days. 

“I meant every word of it,” Steve promises him.

Bucky’s jaw jumps. “I’m counting on it.”

“Good,” Steve says lightly. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“‘Night, Steve,” Bucky says. 

-

“ _Oh!_ ” Bucky gasps, clawing at the sheets. “Oh fuck– oh, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, you like that?” Steve grips Bucky’s hips so tight it hurts, teeth grazing Bucky’s ear. 

“You _know_ I fucking–“ Steve bites his neck and starts to fuck him mean, and Bucky sees stars. “Yeah,” he sobs, “Yeah, I like it, God, right there, baby– Steve– Steve– _Steve_.”

“Keep saying my name like that,” Steve grunts. “Keep– God, look at you. You fucking love it.”

“ _Steve_. Missed you,” Bucky pants, squirming all over the place, he doesn’t know what to do with himself– “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Steve breathes. “I missed you too.”


End file.
